To be? Not To Be?
by the lights above
Summary: Draco has left, Pansy is depressed and Theodore gets in the middle of it. / Rated T for suicidal themes and a swear.


_Written for the To Be or Not To Be Competition._

_**Warnings:**__ Suicidal theme, a single profanity, cutting._

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><p><em>To be or not to be.<em> A Muggle phrase from a book I'd stolen from a Muggle-born Hufflepuff last year. I'd always hated Muggle things. _Nothing was making sense._

There was a sharp knife at my wrist and a hand was manoeuvring it to cut me deep. The hand was mine. The blade went in.

Blood oozed, immediately appearing in comparison with my skin. Dark, crimson, liquid and soft, pallid, solid. Facing off. (_To be? Not to be?_)

My head came crashing against the velvet-covered head rest, my legs kicked at empty air. I could hear the fire crackling, saw through quickly opening-and-closing eyes the green luminescent light from the lake above. Red and green. Forever rivalled. (_To be? Not to be?_)

There were footsteps. Slow, heavy, masculine. I hated the calm. I wanted fast, fire, chaos. The blade cut deeper, and I managed to scream only half as loud as I wished. The speed of the person approaching increased.

A silhouette appeared over the green and red reflections. Tall, thin, a lot of light hair at the top. The cut went deeper but I didn't notice and the knife fell from my hand.

_I thought he'd gone_. I thought he had fled. What was he_ doing_ here? He was risking too much. He should run. He didn't have a choice. (_To be or not be?_)

"Pansy?" His voice had changed, softened, matured. There was nothing of the darkness I had been attracted to. Only concern.

It wasn't him. It wasn't Draco.

I realised it, when I felt the concern. Draco didn't do _concerned_.

I turned my head to see who it was. It was Nott. Undoubtedly seeking a meeting with the Greengrass girl again. I'd helped spread the rumour that they were together.

"What the hell are you doing, Pansy?"

_Trying to make _it _end. _Couldn't he see?

I reached over to pick up the knife again, knowing now that _he_ wasn't here, and I could continue with the self-torture. He acted fast, firmly placing his shoe on the handle of the knife and I cussed as my head hit his knee. He pulled my head back, dropping his eyes to the blood that slid from one end of my wrist to another.

"Pansy, what the _hell_ do you think―? Are you fucking―?" He was unable to finish even a single query, so angry, so concerned with what I was doing. I was surprised.

_Concern_. It was new to me.

"Are you suicidal, Pansy? Do you really care that much about him that you'd die for him, when he didn't even say goodbye to you?"

I remembered now why I'd tossed him aside for Draco when we were first-graders; he saw so much in so little, could see right through me.

"That's none of your business." I said, a pathetic response in comparison to the mockery that he had tossed my way.

"Maybe it's not." He agreed. "But it's not fair to kill yourself over someone who doesn't deserve it."

"You always hated him." My voice was thick with venom, venom I'd learnt to acquire during my days with _him_.

"He's weak, Pansy. Don't be like him."

"He's not weak!—he's protecting his—he loves them, he loves me, that's why—"

"Do you really believe that?" He was mocking again, and a sort of amused honesty entered his eyes. I couldn't look at him anymore. He was the same as any of them: forever taunting, never understanding. I turned my face away. I expected him to make me turn back to look at him, but only a conceding sigh blew on my neck. A fire raged over my skin with the pain from the blood loss.

"Do you really believe that he loves you? That he _ever_ loved you?" His mockery killed me, it broke me. I surrendered to my thoughts.

"No. No-one loves me."

His head snapped up; I could see the surprise in his eyes and my full belief in my words reflected on the shadows across his face.

"No—" He was denying. Denying me the truth. Misunderstanding, again. I no longer wanted lies. I'd rather have the truth, the truth to burn me and pierce me. I wanted it to end.

"Give me the knife." I pleaded softly, looking into his eyes again, trying to wrestle with the fire on my skin on my wrist, trying to stop crying, trying to stop him telling me anything anymore, trying to stop myself from telling him anything anymore.

He shook his head.

"Give it to me!" I tried to move, but my burning wrist dropped weakly onto the cushion and the other was trapped under his quickly reacting heavy palm against the armrest. I kicked my legs but he clamped them together with his other hand. I gasped, and yelled more desperatly, having caught a glimpse of the crimson-covered blade as his foot moved again.

"No! Just think, Pansy. Think!" He begged too, face suddenly looming over mine. I was shocked to see a trace of angry tears on his cheeks. He looked beautiful when he cried. I stopped fighting.

"If Malfoy loved you, wouldn't he come back for you? Wouldn't he want you to wait? Wouldn't you want to be there when he does?"

"He's not!" Nott _knew_ that.

Anger shook his jaw, the tears continued to flow again; his nails bit my skin and I whimpered against his chest; he pulled me away.

"Do you love him?"

My response was automatic. "Yes." It was also true.

"Then don't do this. For his sake. For mine."

(_To be? Or not to be?_)

He waited, and watched, and silently wept. He looked like an angel, with the light hair combed back in an effort to impress Daphne's sister and the concern that pooled from his eyes along with the sad tears.

(_To be? Or not to be?_)

Even _I_ couldn't say no in the face of an angel.

(_To be._)

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><p><em>Not my best piece, because of the characters and theme. I tried, though. Please review.<em>


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